


See Me (Nothing More)

by AndyBoy



Series: In His Shoes Verse [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Coming Out, Dialogue Heavy, Father-Son Relationship, Gay Stanley Uris, Good Father Donald Uris, M/M, not stozier centric, or at least...a father who tries very hard, richie's only there briefly, talking like civilized people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyBoy/pseuds/AndyBoy
Summary: “Right, yes, well.” Stan’s father rubbed his hands together. “I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you.”No, he wasn’t, actually. Stan would rather have liked to never know. But Donald wasn’t actually trying to have a conversation, he just wanted to talk at Stan. Stan nodded.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Stanley Uris & Donald Uris
Series: In His Shoes Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568203
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106





	See Me (Nothing More)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the one-shot I mentioned in the endnotes of In His Shoes. the more it sat around in my docs the more I grew to hate it. So I'm kinda throwing it at you in hopes that finally getting it published will get it out of my head. The only tw for this story is the use of the q term.
> 
> if you've come across this in search results, you don't have to go back and read the 40k stozier fic leading up to this. the only context you need to read this story is: two weeks prior, Stan and Richie swapped bodies for a week and Stan figured a lot of things out about himself. he and Richie started dating close to the end of the body-swap fiasco. Stan and his parents aren't on great terms.

Stan wasn’t  _ afraid  _ of his parents, but when your father is Rabbi Donald Uris, there’s a certain amount of fear-driven respect one has to uphold in his presence.

So, naturally, when Stan’s father called him downstairs early one Monday morning in late July, Stan’s anxiety spiked through the roof.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his laces with shaking hands, as his boyfriend climbed out onto the roof, cursing lowly.

“Be careful, avoid windows, they might see you” Stan said softly. 

“I’m gonna avoid so many damn windows I’ll forget what a window looks like,” Richie promised. He was standing on the roof now, only his torso leaning into the room. “Kiss for good luck?” He puckered his lips dramatically. 

Stan rolled his eyes and pecked Richie briefly on the cheek. “That’s all you get, I have to go talk to Donald.” 

Richie pouted but pulled out of the window and crouched low to scurry across the roof. Stan watched him until he disappeared out of sight, and then pulled his window shut. 

He took the stairs one at a time, watching his feet as they went, hand on the banister.

His father was waiting for him in the kitchen, hands folded on the table, looking...nervous?

Stan took a seat cautiously. “Donald,” he greeted.

His father winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Stan.”

“It’s your name,” Stan said.

“I wish you weren’t so mad at me,” Donald said. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I’m not mad at you, Donald, I’m just growing up.”

“Right, yes, well.” Stan’s father rubbed his hands together. “I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you.”

No, he wasn’t, actually. Stan would rather have liked to never know. But Donald wasn’t actually trying to have a conversation, he just wanted to talk at Stan. Stan nodded. 

“I just feel like we’ve drifted a bit, Stanley,” Donald said. “I barely know what you’re doing anymore. And two weeks ago, you—”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Stood up for myself?” 

His father winced. “Well, yes, but—”

“Told you that it was my life and not yours and that if you try to keep controlling the things I do and the company I keep, you’re going to lose me forever?” Stan leant back in his chair, arms crossed.

His father nodded wearily. “Please don’t interrupt me, Stan. I want to have an open and honest discussion with you.”

Stan swept his hand out in a “go on” sort of gesture.

Donald sighed. “Well, Stanley, I just wish I was more in the loop. I wish you told me more things. I didn’t even know until that argument that you thought we were stifling you.”

“Right, because you’ve fostered such an open and communicative home life,” Stan said bitterly.

Donald rubbed his temples. “Stanley, I’m trying to have a conversation with you. There are lots of things I want to say. I want you to hear all of them, and I want to hear whatever you say to me.”

“Been reading a lot of parenting books, Don?”

“But I won’t be able to carry on a healthy dialogue with you if you continue to shoot down and belittle every single thing I say.”

Stan mimed zipping his lips.

“Stanley, up until recently, I thought you were fairly well behaved. And now, you sass me at every turn, argue against every order I give, and seem to be avoiding me. I wish I knew where I went wrong with you.”

“Dad, I’m growing up. I’m not going to be under your control forever.”

“I never wanted you under my control, Stanley, I only wanted you to be an obedient son.”

“If you wanted an obedient son, you should have bought a dog. A cocker Staniel, if you will.” He smirked internally at the pun.

His father rolled his eyes in a starkly familiar way. “Really, Stan?”

Stan was rendered momentarily speechless. He had never seen another person look more like himself, and he had swapped bodies with Richie for almost a week.

“Stan?” his father asked. Stan shook himself mentally. 

“Yes, father?” he asked.

“Jeez, Stan, don’t call me father. I’d prefer Donald, if you refuse to call me dad.”

“You never complained before.”

“I suppose not.” Donald sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m trying this new parenting approach called ‘humanization.’”

Stan laughed surprisedly. “You never make jokes! Did you really make a joke?” he asked, incredulous.

Donald frowned. “No, what was funny?”

_ Oh my god _ , Stan thought.  _ That wasn’t a joke. _

He cleared his throat and threaded his fingers together. He leaned across the table, giving his father a faux-serious look. “No, no, Mr. Uris, please, tell me more about this ‘humanization.’”

“Well if you’re going to be like that, Stanley—”

“No, no, Dad,” Stan said hurriedly. “I want to hear. Seriously.”

His father must have sensed that he meant it because he sat back down. “Humanization is this parenting technique I’m trying. I read about it in one of my…”

“Parenting books,” Stan said, stifling a grin.

“Parenting books,” his father repeated, abashed. “Bought about eight last week.”

“I admire the effort. Continue.”

“Humanization is this technique where you talk to your child as if he is your equal.”

“What a shocking concept,” Stan grumbled.

“One where you treat your child as a human being, obviously, but one where you also invite your child to see  _ you _ as a human being.”

Stan raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I don’t see you as a human being?”

“Because I’ve always been...excessively formal around you, I think. You’re my son, I’ve known you all your life, and you’ve known me just as long. I think I can...lighten up a little. I just worry that you’ve only ever seen me as your father, and nothing else.”

“Not true,” Stan denied. 

“How so?”

“I think of you as my rabbi, too,” Stan said, wearing the shit-eating-grin he’d perfected during his time in Richie’s body.

“What on earth happened to you,” Donald said wonderingly.

It wasn’t a question, but Stan answered anyway. “I had approximately 80 epiphanes over the span of 5 days.”

“That’s a lot of epiphanes.”

“You’re telling  _ me _ .”

“What were the epihanes about?”

“The kind of person I am, the kind of person I want to be, the kind of people I want to spend time with, the sort of treatment I deserve, et cetera.”

“And the treatment you deserve?”

“Not what I’d been getting from you.”

“So you defied us.”

“So I decided to stop laying down and taking your shit.” Technically, Richie had been the one that decided that. Technically, Richie was the one that had stood up to Stan’s parents. Stan had maintained the fight and the defiance, though. Long after he was back in his own body.

“I wish you would talk to me, Stan.”

“Nothing I would say is anything you’d be happy to hear.”

“Nevertheless, I want to hear it.”

“Okay, you want to hear it? Here goes: I hate the way you talk about Richie,” Stan said. “And the way you talk  _ to _ him. It’s shitty.”

“Stanley, that boy—”

“Is my best friend. He’s been my best friend for like, seven years. He’s not going anywhere any time soon. I want him at my side, Dad, you have to know that. He’s not going anywhere.”

Stan looked his father in the eyes and was surprised to see something like tears at the corners of his eyes. Stan watched his father wipe away tears as he might watch a car crash. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and a dry throat, unable to tear his eyes away.

“I know that when you have your bar mitzvah, you become a man, Stanley, but you’re still so young. Two years ago you started to slip away from me, and that terrifies me to no end. You’re fifteen, and I can’t make your decisions for you. A part of me just always wanted to hold on to the boy that you were.”

“Dad,” Stan said gently. “Me becoming more of my own person and growing up and making my own decisions doesn’t mean I’m slipping away from you. If anything, it’s a chance for us to become closer.”

His father laughed wetly and blinked up at the ceiling, clearly trying to keep tears at bay. “I want to get to know you, Stan. You know that I love you, right? You have to know that.”

Stan’s heart clenched. “I do know that, Dad,” he said carefully. “But I don’t know if I feel it.”

“Right,” his father said. “Uh, tell me something about yourself. Something I might not know.”

Stan nodded. “My favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla, but only with chocolate sprinkles.”

Donald smiled. “I’m glad to know that about you, Stanley. Mine is coffee. Tell me something else about you.”

“My favorite play is  _ Hamlet, _ and I really hated  _ The Merchant of Venice. _ ”

His father laughed. “I hated that one too. And I didn’t ever read Hamlet.”

“What, was it not out yet when you were in school?”

“Stan—” his father started warningly, then stopped himself. He twisted his mouth into a wry smile. “Very funny, Stanley, I’m an old man, I get it.”

“I’m a comedic genius,” Stan said.

“Tell me something else I don’t know about you.”

“Is this how you get to know all of your peers?” Stan asked.

“No, just how I get to know my son.”

“What do you even want to know about me, Dad? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“I want to know you. I feel like I haven’t been fair to you because I have only seen you as my son, nothing more. I want you to be your own person in this house.”

“Dad,” Stan said suddenly, a thrill of anticipation running up his spine. “Is there anything I could tell you that would make you not love me anymore?”

Donald’s mouth was a grim line but his eyes were proud. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve killed someone, but you are my son, and I will help you cover your tracks.”

Stan snorted. “Wow, so supportive.”

“Stanley.” His father reached across the table and took Stan’s hand. “I have not always been the best father to you. I want to change that. I want to be better for you.”

“You’re gonna see Richie around a lot,” Stan said in a rush. “You’re not getting rid of him.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve already said that. I understand I’ll have to get used to the boy’s presence—”

“Because he’s my boyfriend,” Stan finished. “You’ll have to get used to him because he’s my boyfriend, and if you don’t want to lose me, these are the conditions by which you have to accept me. I’m queer, take it or leave it.”

The air was tense. Neither son nor father dared to move, or even breathe. Stan stared his father down defiantly, and Donald seemed to be frozen with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth half-open.

“So,” his father said eventually. “No unplanned teenage pregnancies, then.”

Stan shook his head slowly. “No. None of those.”

Donald nodded. Just once, sharply up and down. “I’m sorry, Stanley, I need a moment.”

“Take your time, Dad.”

Another long, tense pause.

“What about the Denbrough boy?” Stan’s father asked finally.

Stan blinked. “What about Bill?”

“Well, he’s not Jewish, but he’s well-behaved, and he’s respectful.”

“What do you m—”

“Or that homeschooled boy your group adopted, Michael. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“Mike?”

“Or that Ricky Caswell, he came to your bar mitzvah, didn’t he? He’s got common sense and he reads a lot of books.”

“Dad are you—” Stan had to force his words out around a stifled laugh. “Are you trying to set me up with a different boy?”

“Oh, Stan, I don’t know. The  _ Tozier  _ boy? Really? Hell, it’ll take some getting used to but ultimately I don’t care if you’re queer, Stanley. But  _ Richie Tozier _ ? Of all the boys in Derry?”

Stan laughed loudly, relievedly. “You don’t care if I’m gay, you just think I deserve better than Richie?”

“Exactly! You know how he is.”

“Yes, I do, and that’s why I’m dating him. We balance each other out.”

“And you like him?”

“A lot,” Stan said quietly.

“He respects you?” 

“A surprising amount.”

“And he makes you happy?”

“He does.”

Stan’s father leant back in his chair. “Then I guess I’ll just have to learn how to live with him.”

Stan felt his grin almost splitting his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad, Stanley. It’s just going to take me a while to adjust.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Stan said. And he meant it.

And Donald smiled at Stan, and Stan could tell that he meant that too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I tend to favor stories about characters whos parents try their best but still manage to leave lasting damage, no matter how much they love them. So that's the kind of dynamic I've assigned to Stan and his parents.
> 
> In my writing, you'll notice a trend of child/teen characters calling their parents by their first names. sometimes behind their back, and sometimes to their face. Am I projecting? Yes. Yes I am.
> 
> this was written even before The Movie's Winding Down, so it's high time it get posted honestly.
> 
> again, if you have time to spare a comment, they mean the world!!!! thank you all for the continued support.
> 
> I don't know if yall wanted something more dramatic than this, but this series isn't really about homophobia. not from the outside world anyway. SO I might bend history and reality just a touch, to give Stan and Richie supportive families and friends and stuff. Cause that's not what I'm writing about here.
> 
> As for the multi-chapter sequel I mentioned in the endnotes of In His Shoes, I've put a hold on that temporarily. It's sort of embarrassing to me, and a pretty overdone thing, not to mention being an entirely different target audience. Essentially the plan was for a Stranger Things crossover, featuring the twins Mike and Richie trope, but linked back to the og story by featuring Richie and Stan navigating their developing relationship, the Wheelers' and the Toziers' awkward family history, and of course, Richie and Mike waking up in each others bodies and being really confused because they're identical.  
> if there's a lot of interest in that, i might pick it back up, I only made it about two chapters in before getting discouraged. But surely you can see why I was hesitant about it, bringing an entire other franchise into the mix.
> 
> thats all i wanted to talk about, thank you again for reading!


End file.
